


Injustice

by Felixbug



Series: Breaking the Silence [18]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-04-27 01:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5028295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felixbug/pseuds/Felixbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Something's wrong." Anders took over in a rush, residual blue flickering in his veins. "It's past three - Isabela might think it was a good time for a social call, but if Aveline's here..."</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"Then there's trouble." Hawke nodded. "Nothing I can't handle, I'm sure. Get dressed, love. Maybe bring the spare lyrium potions from the bedside drawer? Might be a long night."</i>
</p><p>To Catch a Thief + the end of Act 2. The OT3 deal with the Qunari threat, and Isabela's and Aveline's secrets are dragged into the light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We finally made it - the end of act 2! Tags may update with the next chapters, this one shouldn't be more than 4 chapters but with these characters, who can say? Thanks to everyone who's been reading BTS, and hi to anyone just dropping in now - this fic doesn't require you to know anything other than the canon events of DA2, and that Hawke, Anders and Justice are in an established relationship. 
> 
> Warnings for violence, typical Aveline and Isabela "banter", and some angst.

Hightown was near silent, the only sound the soft breeze whispering around the open window to tug at the heavy velvet curtains. Hawke had left them thrown open – it was a cool night, but even sleeping naked he always woke up hot and sticky, hair sticking to his forehead. Technically two lovers – for all that they shared a body, he’d swear that they produced enough heat for two – and one very large, very clingy mabari, made for very warm nights. Often he managed to sleep through it, or wake, throw off the sheets, and doze off again sprawled nude across his side of the bed, one forearm over his eyes to protect them from Justice’s glow. Tonight, the heat and his thoughts kept him awake. Hawke rubbed his hands over his face with a groan.

"Are you awake?"

"That joke has not yet become amusing."

Hawke grinned and turned into the light, coming eye to eye with a slightly judgemental and, he was certain, amused spirit. 

"Is that a yes?"

Justice sighed fondly, and shifted to extract his arm from beneath Macaroni's snoring bulk and reach for Hawke. He brushed his fingers over his chest, then snaked his hand around the back of his neck and rumbled contentedly. Hawke groaned and arched into the touch until Justice kneaded with his fingertips, firm, sweet pressure down the sides of Hawke’s spine.

"I cannot sleep. Why are you awake?"

"I cannot sleep," Hawke deadpanned. "In a slightly more overthinking mortal way."

"You are concerned?"

"Been an odd week." Macaroni huffled in his sleep and wiggled closer to Justice, and Hawke chuckled. "Anders is going to be _so_ pleased when he wakes up covered in slobber. Just, you know – everything with Fenris, then you and Anders fighting..."

"We did not _fight_. And our conflict is resolved."

"Okay, okay." Hawke brushed his thumb over Justice's forehead, smoothing the frown line. "But now with Bela avoiding me, and people _still_ picking fights with the Qunari, it feels like everything's coming apart. Just a matter of time before we're in a real mess." Hawke laughed and shook his head. "Imagine if, just for once, things could be _normal_."

"My time among mortals suggests that this is normal." Justice shifted, and Macaroni grumbled and rolled to the foot of the bed, leaving Justice space to pull Hawke close in a tangle of limbs. "Difficulties with each other, constant conflict and threat, injustice and death. Your world is terrifying, I do not know how you endure it at times."

"There are good things too."

Justice's body moulded to his as their lips met. It was slow, and as gentle as Justice ever was, but Hawke still felt utterly consumed. Justice's lips were warm and bitter with the hum of the Fade, and the first languid sweep of his tongue left Hawke moaning, a pleasant shiver running up his spine. He traced the tingling pattern of glowing cracks until Justice squirmed, over his ribs, his waist, down to his hips. Justice rocked urgently against the thickness of Hawke's thigh, and growled into his open mouth. 

"You'll wake Anders," Hawke murmured. 

"He will not object to being woken for this." 

Justice's cock brushed against Hawke's as he repositioned himself, and both of them moaned - Hawke shakily - as they rested their foreheads together. Macaroni took the hint and clambered down from the bed with a quiet grizzle and padded out into the hall, leaving the only sounds Hawke's hoarse pants and Justice's gravelly moans as they rocked together. Hawke rolled onto his back, pulling Justice with him, shuddering breaths and quick, sharp bucks of hips blurring into raw heat. Kisses turned urgent and messy, a clash of teeth and tongues as Justice's nails raked down Hawke's back and Hawke's fingers dug into Justice's ass. 

"Fuck," he moaned. "Justice – _Maker,_ that's good..."

"I want more than this." Justice's voice made Hawke's toes curl and back arch, his cock throbbing between them as he thrust and panted. "Turn over - prepare yourself, I will wake Anders..."

"You - don't really do _quick_ do you?" Hawke grinned and ducked in for one more kiss, dragging Justice's lip between his teeth. He pulled away reluctantly, flipping onto his stomach and groping blindly for the oil he kept beside the bed. Justice's hand was on his thigh, the spirit's breath shaking as he pulled the sheets back to expose Hawke's muscular frame. There was a groan from Justice, a press of slick fingers and - _there_ \- Hawke whimpered with his face pressed against the pillow, grinding back against his own hand. 

There was a loud crash from downstairs.

"Fucking _Maker_ , not now," Hawke groaned. 

"If this is Fenris insisting on another discussion, tell him he is not welcome." Justice slid out of bed with a rumble, cracks flaring brightly, then dimming as Anders' mind awoke and took shared control. They turned to Hawke - the blue film on their eyes showing warm amber beneath, and the way they twisted their lower lip between their teeth was all Anders. Hawke sat up, wiping his oiled fingers on the sheets. Anders was the worrier, Hawke refused to assume the worst - but he still glanced over to his armour stand and his sword propped against the wall. Just in case. 

"You can't just _break in to Hawke's house_."

" _You_ can't. Hawke actually likes me."

"Is that what friendship is to you? Not having to respect people's property? I mean, if Hawke liked women I assume you'd show affection your usual way, but as a second option this really..."

"I'm coming down," Hawke called, relieved even through his irritation. Breaking up a fight between Isabela and Aveline wasn't what he _wanted_ to be doing right now, but it was better than fighting Templars or Qunari or whoever else might be breaking in. And it was infinitely better than seeing that sickening worry flooding Anders’ face. "Try not to kill each other."

"Aveline is correct," Justice said. He rumbled low in his chest as Hawke stood up, the discarded sheets whispering over bare skin before being left abandoned. He could feel Justice’s gaze on him, and glanced over his shoulder with a smirk as he bent to retrieve his clothing.

“You? Agreeing with Aveline? That’s new and horrifying.”

"I do not like knowing others can invade as they please."

"Bela doesn't invade. She's just friendly. Besides, she probably tried knocking first." Hawke winked as he tugged on his trousers, enjoying Justice’s frustrated growl. "I was distracted."

“As was I.”

"Something's wrong." Anders took over in a rush, residual blue flickering in his veins. "It's past three - Isabela _might_ think it was a good time for a social call, but if Aveline's here..."

"Then there's trouble." Hawke nodded. "Nothing I can't handle, I'm sure. Get dressed, love. Maybe bring the spare lyrium potions from the bedside drawer? Might be a long night."

"This is important..." Hawke heard Aveline snap from downstairs, and sighed, running his fingers through his hair and willing his erection to subside. "Don't interrupt with your selfish prattle."

"Please. You'd still be tapping on the door without me. Anyway, get off your high horse - I have problems too."

"Yes, of course." Hawke could hear Aveline's disdainful snort as he left the bedroom, pulling his crumpled shirt over his head. "Like 'what drink should I order?' or 'who's the father?'"

"Oh, you little..."

"Am I interrupting something?" Hawke paced down the stairs, running both hands through his tousled hair. "If this is just the usual sniping can it happen outside? Or at least at a more reasonable hour?"

"It's not." Isabela looked - Hawke couldn't think of a word for it for a moment. On anyone else he'd have thought _rough_ \- puffy, pinched eyes, oily skin and lank hair. Bela, somehow, managed to pull it together into exhausted glamour, her hair pulled into a tattered braid, and tired skin brightened with a sweep of shimmering powder across her cheekbones. But she was fraying around the edges, that much was obvious. "I'm a bit out of my depth, if I'm totally honest."

"I don't think the clinic's open," Aveline smirked. "It doesn't matter how much it itches, you can't drag the healer out of bed on a whim."

"Get fucked." There was no humour in her response and her eyes flashed as she wheeled on Aveline. "You bitter, spiteful..."

"Hey - hey..." Hawke groaned and held up his hands. "One at a time."

"I-"

" _Hawke_ ," Aveline cut in. "The Arishok is sheltering two fugitives. 'Converts,' if you believe that for a second. He has to be convinced to release them. Tonight. There's chaos already, it'll be riots by dawn if we don't do something.  He's already feared because of Petrice, if people think he can ignore the law..."

"I'm going to _die_." Isabela tossed her hair and grimaced. "That what it takes to get your attention? Pretty sure it's not Hawke's job to calm riots and arrest criminals."

"If only there was someone _paid_ to do that. You know, professionally?" Hawke grinned and Isabela managed a weak smile. "Ever heard of anyone like that, Aveline?"

"Hilarious. Jokes aside, if we don't get this under control people will die tonight. The Arishok listens to you..."

"He definitely does not." Hawke snorted. "Bela, how dead are we talking?"

"There. Got your attention. Real problem." She glared at Aveline. "Remember the relic?"

"Shit - you found it?"

"With a man named Wall-Eyed Sam. If I can get it back..."

Hawke ignored Aveline's stare and grabbed Isabela around the waist and pulled her in for a hug, squeezing her until she squeaked. Between Anders' connection to the Mage Underground, Merrill's blood magic, and Fenris's deadly combination of drinking and running from slavers, Hawke spent enough time watching the backs of people he loved. If Isabela could be free of her past, at least _someone_ could be living, rather than surviving, in the city of chains. 

"I'm trying to keep the _entire_ city from rioting against the Qunari," Aveline spat. "You can't be considering this. You haven't learned a damn thing."

"That's me. Hopelessly stubborn, and still not one of your guardsmen." He wasn't going to rise to the bait tonight. "I'll join you later. Everything kicking off at the compound?"

"Looks that way," Aveline said grimly. "I hope you don't regret this. You really trust her this much?"

"Probably not, I wouldn't," Isabela shrugged. "Get your cute piece of mage ass, this could get bloody."

"You and Hawke are involved. Of course it will." Hawke turned to watch Anders descend the stairs. Justice had withdrawn, as far as anyone else would know, but Hawke could still see him in the straightness of Anders' spine and the proud confidence of his steps. His hair was pulled back, his battered coat belted tight at his waist, and his freckled fingers gripped the worn wood of his staff. He caught Hawke's eye and blue flickered across his face - there was still concern there, but determination too. He was the warden he had been, the spirit that shared his skin, and the unflinching Darktown healer. 

"Where are we headed?" Hawke asked. 

"Lowtown." Isabela ran her fingers over the hilt of her dagger with a wicked grin. "Let's go."

 

***

 

Anders propped his staff against the wall, and leaned back against the solid sandstone with a sigh. Hawke’s suggestion that he be the one to drag Varric out of bed had probably been a good one, but that didn’t make Anders any more comfortable with splitting up on a night like this. The distant sounds of angry yelling filtered through Lowtown’s streets, and more than one group of aggressive drunks or nervous looking guardsmen had passed them on the way here. The alley behind the Hanged Man wasn’t where he’d hoped to end up that night – the familiar scent of piss and spilled ale made him wrinkle his nose, and Justice retreated deeper into his mind with a shiver of disgust. _Thanks,_ Anders thought, and nudged playfully at the retreating tendrils of thought. _Leave me here on my own._

“What does that spirit of yours think of all this?” Isabela asked. Not quite on his own then. Anders watched as she flopped down onto a crate, crossing her legs and flipping her braid over one shoulder to toy with the tips of her hair.

“He’s not – well, not _enthusiastic_ about helping you steal,” Anders admitted. “But helping Hawke’s friends not die is a worthy cause.”

“Worthy cause?” Isabela snorted. “Anyway, Wall-Eyed Sam is a thief too.”

“I know. If he was the rightful owner, I couldn’t have dragged Justice here if I’d tried.”

“Would you have tried?” Isabela’s lips twisted and she broke eye contact. “Fuck – this week has been…”

“Trust me, I know.” Anders grinned. “Different reasons, but I’m so ready for things to quiet down. You’re my friend too, you know – I’m not just here because of Garrett.”

“Mm, first name terms with Hawke. Not many manage that.” Isabela shrugged off her frown and replaced it with a teasing smile. “It’s getting serious then?”

“Very.”

“With both of you?”

“It’s – yeah. Serious, definitely. With me and Justice it’s not like – not like being two people in love with the same person, you know?” Anders frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, trying to explain gives me a headache. It’s like an echo – I feel my feelings for Hawke, and I feel Justice’s and he feels mine, and there’s this space between that’s _both_ of us and there’s feelings there too…”

“Okay, this is _far_ more feelings than I need to hear about.” Isabela chuckled and shook her head. “I get this shit from Hawke all the time. Ask about threesomes, get an emotional tirade about how _cute_ Justice is when he smiles – weird mental image by the way…”

“Weird mental image?” Anders turned at Varric’s sleep-slurred voice. “Ancestors, if Rivaini’s found something unsettling I do _not_ want to hear about it.”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t tempt me.” Isabela stood up and slapped Anders playfully on the shoulder. “Just swapping dirty stories, this boy was _fun_ back in the day.”

“If this is what I was dragged out of bed for, I’m going back.”

Hawke appeared in the entrance to the alley, effortlessly blocking Varric in as he braced his gauntleted hands on the walls and leaned over the dwarf with a smirk. He looked as good as ever – a mess of dark hair clinging to his cheeks, full lips slightly parted as he laughed at Varric’s mock attempt to dodge past him, and his eyes catching the low light as he glanced up at Anders. Anders couldn’t quite lose himself in it tonight – his eyes were drawn to the dents in Hawke’s well-worn armour, the weak spots they both knew about, and the way Hawke moved slightly favouring his left side – an injury Anders was still working on, but that only time could truly fix. Hawke wasn’t up to taking on rioters or Qunari tonight, and they all knew it – the healer more than anyone.

“You okay, love?” Hawke said.

“Fine.” Anders swallowed, and felt Justice’s uneasy coiling in the depths of his fears. Hawke held his gaze for a moment, that confident smirk _almost_ reassuring.

“Hawke woke me up with something about Isabela dying,” Varric said finally. “Someone fill me in?”

“So _dramatic_.” Isabela unsheathed one of her daggers and twirled it between her fingers. “The relic – you know, the one I need to live? It’s about… two-hundred yards that way,” she gestured with her dagger. “You know how this works, if we kill him, we get to keep his stuff.”

“And then there might be a slight situation at the Qunari compound,” Hawke said. “Aveline, fugitive elven converts, a _tiny_ riot…”

Varric sighed, and put his hands over his face with a groan.

“I’m sure she’s got it under control,” Hawke offered. “I’m just there to look imposing. I’m bringing you along for comic relief.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Varric said drily.

Isabela sashayed forward and Varric reluctantly took the lead with her, the two rogues slipping into easy banter as Hawke fell back beside Anders. As they exited the alley a group of guardsmen dashed out of a side street, and something about them made Anders’ stomach clench and he turned to watch them. Hawke followed his gaze. They didn’t move like guards – they looked undisciplined, and more than one seemed to be in only partial armour, as if they’d dressed hastily. They raced past, not even sparing a glance for the scantily-clad pirate twirling a dagger between her fingers, or the apostate with a staff in his hand.

“Fucking knife-ears,” one shouted, and a cry of agreement echoed between them.

“That doesn’t look like they’re planning an arrest,” Anders said quietly. “Are you sure you don’t want to stop at the Qunari compound first?”

“Aveline’ll quiet them down,” Hawke said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Come on – this won’t take long.”

They rounded a corner, and Isabela stopped dead. Anders almost crashed into her, feeling Justice flare with alarm as he skidded to a halt. A group of heavily armed Qunari blocked their path – standing at the ready between them and the warehouse.

“Shit,” Isabela hissed. She didn’t sound surprised, and Anders’ panic balled hot in his gut – of course she hadn’t told them everything. Of course there was a trap. He should have known – with Justice howling in his mind that she was a liar and a thief and nothing more, he’d let his affection for Isabela drown it out.

“You misled us,” Anders said – and it wasn’t quite him, there was a rumble in his throat and a flicker in his veins that he felt before he saw. Bitter lyrium on his tongue and fury burning in the magic he summoned to his fingers. “What have your unjust actions caused?”

“Quiet down.” Isabela drew her second dagger, shoulders tense.

“Hold.” One of the Qunari stepped forward – and Maker, he was big. Seven feet tall at least, broad-shouldered and bare-chested. He drew his sword. “You will surrender the relic.”

“I don’t _have_ your stupid relic,” Isabela spat.

 _Focus._ Anders ignored Justice’s boiling in his veins – there would be time to confront Isabela, but it wasn’t now. Hawke was racing forward, lip curled in a snarl, his dark hair whipped around his face and his sword drawn and arcing through the air. Varric loosed a bolt from Bianca and it took one of the Qunari in the throat, driving him to his knees with a gurgling cry, and Isabela leapt forward to finish him off with a sweep of her daggers. She was impossibly fast, almost a blur as she danced between the slower warriors, blades flashing in the low lamplight as she gutted one opponent and whirled in a spray of gore to drive her dagger up into the chest of another. Anders felled a Qunari that charged him with a blast of fire, cringing at the sudden scent of burning flesh and the warrior’s horrified howl as he collapsed, skin charring and horns cracked by the heat. There was no time to check he wasn’t getting up – Hawke had engaged with their leader in a clash of blades, and Anders was racing towards him, panting harshly, eyes stinging in the smoke.

Hawke drove the Qunari back with vicious blows, forcing him to defend against the whirlwind of steel and leaving no opening to attack. Anders summoned lightning to coil and snap around his staff, but they were too close – Hawke lashing out with a fist as the Qunari parried another blow, his heavy gauntlet crashing into his jaw and coming away bloodied. Anders twisted and loosed the crackling electricity at a pair of Qunari who were closing on Varric, and in the seconds pause their twitching agony bought, Varric shot one through the eye, another twice in the chest. Anders didn’t stop to check on Isabela, he turned back to Hawke – just in time to see the Qunari’s blade flash out low and slam into Hawke’s breastplate at full force.

It tore with a scream of metal on metal, cracking open. The blade had cut most of the padding beneath – Hawke was unhurt, but he had perhaps seconds to protect himself, and he _wasn’t._ He attacked – bringing his blade up before the Qunari could recover his defensive stance. The heavy sword sliced into the Qunari’s chest, crunching through bone like dry twigs and the huge warrior roared in agony, collapsing in a gush of thick, dark blood from his destroyed torso. He slashed out once more, feeble and shaky, blinded by agony – but it was enough. The tip of his sword tore into Hawke’s belly, and Hawke hunched forward with a cry.

“No!” Anders tried to summon creation magic to his fingertips, but it was snatched away in a roar of pure, burning blue. He stumbled, gasped, and the air he inhaled tasted of the Fade, of protective fury and of the utter certainty of Justice. Isabela’s dishonesty would not hurt Hawke, he would not be harmed by this – Justice would not allow it.

“I’m – I’m okay,” Hawke panted, and Anders barely heard through the bright flare of Justice’s determination. His staff clattered to the ground, discarded as Justice let the primal power of raw, untamed magic flow through him. An electric storm built around him, static flickering down his spine as his skin cracked and blazed, and he wheeled on the remaining Qunari. There was fear in their eyes, but they charged anyway – Isabela’s thrown dagger slowed one but did not stop him, and the crossbow bolt that hit the other in the thigh seemed to only spur him on. Justice growled, deep and loud enough to shake the ground, standing tall between them and Hawke – and unleashed the raw power of Anders’ magic through his hands.

 _Heal,_ Anders thought. Simple, strong – Justice’s rage would not listen for subtle suggestions now. Hawke needed them, he needed Justice to draw back – but Justice’s burning gaze turned to Isabela and he stalked forward with a snarl between the twisted, charred corpses of the Qunari.

“What are the Qunari doing here?” he demanded.

“H-Hawke?” She tried to dodge past him, and Justice gripped her by the arm, pushing her back against the wall with a low, warning rumble.

“The – look, the relic belongs to the Qunari.” She swallowed, squinting in the glare as Justice loomed closer. Anders made another push for control and he felt Justice recognise it and falter – they were better than this. They did not take control from each other by force, they did not threaten Hawke’s friends. Justice growled and released her, stepping back as Anders flooded forward, gasping as he retook control and felt the ache in his shoulders and back from Justice’s stiff stance.

“Garrett,” Anders gasped, and rushed to his side. The wound was shallow, the bleeding already slowing, but his stomach still clenched as he pressed his glowing palm to the cut and let creation knit the torn skin closed. Justice had delayed them – and with some wounds, every second would have counted. He felt Justice’s apologetic brush against his thoughts, and clung to it gratefully. It could have been worse – but it hadn’t been – and Justice understood his mistake. It was communication beyond anything they could have hoped for six months ago, and when Anders poured healing magic into Hawke’s body, he felt Justice strengthening him from within, his own connection to the Fade lending Anders strength.

“So – Qunari relic?” Hawke laughed weakly and threaded his blood-soaked fingers through Anders’ hair. The metal gauntlet was heavy and snagged in his hair, but Anders didn’t mind. “I’m fine, love – you can stop.”

“Er – yes.” Isabela took a cautious step forward and Anders turned with a glare. “And there’s a small chance they want it back.”

“Really? I’d have had no idea.” Hawke caught Anders by the wrist. “It was a scratch – look at me, love. Hey.”

Anders looked up, and let the glow around his fingers fade. Hawke gave him a lopsided grin and tugged his hair playfully, leaning in close to kiss the tip of his nose. He smelled of the sharp tang of sweat and the metallic heat of blood, wild and victorious as he cupped the back of Anders’ head.

“You might have thought to mention something earlier,” Hawke said, finally releasing Anders to roll his shoulders back with a groan. “If Aveline wants me to play ambassador it might be a little difficult covered in Qunari blood.”

“Would you have still come?” She shrugged, hiding her guilt well – but Anders, or Justice, he wasn’t sure which, noticed the way her eyes darted to Hawke’s ruined breastplate and the way her lip caught between her teeth. “I’ve always known what the relic is. Maybe I just didn’t want to worry you?”

“You're the picture of kindness, Rivaini.” Varric shook his head. “You good, Hawke? I’m not sure you should be picking any more fights until you – well…” he gestured to Hawke’s chest.

“The Qunari seem to do alright without armour,” he replied with a grin. “Honestly, if you could all stop fussing long enough to get back to the accusatory shouting – Bela, what _is_ it?”

“It’s a Qunari text,” she said. “Handwritten by that philosopher of theirs – uh, Keslan? Cousland? Whatever. I stole it from them, they followed me here to reclaim it and… look, it’s why they’re still here. They can’t leave Kirkwall without it.”

“Well, shit,” said Varric.

“Sounds like the Qunari take their reading very seriously.” Hawke laughed.

“Is there anything they _don’t_ take seriously?”

“Is there anything you _do_?” Anders spat. “We could have all been killed for this, and now it turns out all of this is your fault – how many people have died on both sides because of this? How many more are going to die in the riots tonight? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Shut up, Justice.” Isabela scowled and stooped to tug her dagger free of one of the corpses. “You used to be a lot less of an utter asshole, you know.”

“I mean – he’s blunt, but he’s not _wrong_ ,” Varric said. He grimaced. “If you hand this thing over to Castillon the Qunari are here – what, forever? Until we kill them or they kill us. Which…” he looked down at the muscular corpse at his feet and shuddered. “We did okay tonight, but long term, I know who I’d bet on.”

“If the Qunari decide to attack, the city wouldn’t last a day,” Hawke said. “Shit, Bela…”

“Look – the book’s right in this building. I’m _not_ letting it slip away again. It’s the only chance I’ve got.” Isabela scowled and flipped her braid back. “Stop acting like none of you would do the same – Maker, the story I heard is that Justice literally _possessed someone_ to stay alive, can you say selfish?”

“I’m giving Bela the book.” Hawke’s voice was quiet, but firm.

“Are you sure that’s…”

“No, I’m not.” Hawke met Anders’ eye and sighed. “But I’m not losing anyone else. Not anyone else – not ever. This city has – _fuck,_ I came here to protect the remains of my family and what do I have left? This is it for me – you four, Bethany, if I ever see her again. If there are consequences, I’ll deal with them. Right now, I’m taking care of Bela. Any questions?”

“Yeah, did you get your head hit in the fight?” Varric grinned. “Just three of us here, Hawke.”

“No, definitely four.” Hawke took Anders’ hand and squeezed it, and Justice flickered to the surface to squeeze back, glowing fingers interlacing with Hawke’s.

“Are you serious?” Hawke turned to Isabela with an eyebrow raised, and she grinned. “About the relic, I mean. I wasn’t expecting that. Nice to have someone on my side for once.”

“Always.” Hawke released Anders’ hand, and both Anders and Justice felt the emptiness of the loss. “Come on, no time to waste.”

Anders picked up his staff, Justice hovering just below the skin, and they followed Hawke into the warehouse, and into chaos.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaand we're back! Next chapter's already in progress, sorry about the huge delay on this one.

_Dear Hawke,_

_I have the relic, and I am gone. I'm sorry it has to be this way. You've been a loyal ally, but this is best for us both. You promised me the relic, and I know you'll fight Castillon for me, but I don't want this. I've dragged you too far into this mess already._

_You don't have to forgive me, but I hope you understand._

_Isabela_

 

Justice read the letter silently, then handed it back to Hawke. It hurt when Hawke hurt - like an invisible line drawn between his mind and Justice's, pulled taut to the point of pain. Justice knew this connection - he knew it all too well - but outside of the Fade and the intimate depths of Anders' mind he had not thought it possible. It hummed and burned, twitching and snagging on the sensitive parts of his mind. Hawke was feeling loss.

"I don't understand." He was quiet - no jokes, no rage. "I was going to _help_ her. Do you think she didn't trust me?"

"The letter suggests that she did." Justice wasn't sure if he should step back for Anders to give comfort. He'd come forward in a rush to fight the Tevinter mages, Qunari and petty criminals that had waited in the warehouse, a whirlwind of blue fire that stood between them and Hawke, and always would. Anders stayed quiet in his mind, nothing but a nudge at Justice's thoughts - an encouragement to speak.

"You and Isabela have a bond," Justice said. " _Th'mrzaslath_ \- I do not know - it does not translate... You are reckless together, and choose not to restrict yourselves, because there is joy in it."

"Spirits do that enough to have a word for it?" Hawke said, with a brief smile.

"The bond _is_ more common among demons."

"Figures."

"Isabela is aware this mistake is more dangerous than those before. It is just, and noble, for her to dissolve the bond rather than cause you harm. Not as just or noble as it would be to return the book to its rightful owner, but for Isabela this..." Anders jabbed at the thought sharply, and Justice fell silent. Mortals did not always appreciate honesty.

"Is as good as it gets? That what you were going to say?" Hawke managed a weak grin. "You get this look on your face when Anders shushes you, like you just sat on a wasp's nest."

"This seems unlikely," Justice said.

"Look, not to interrupt a sweet - uh, or deeply weird, I'm not sure - moment, but we need to move." Varric shifted uneasily as a loud cry echoed from a nearby side street. "I know it's not our job, but if you're going to take a stand against helping Aveline on principle, can it be tomorrow? When we've stopped the city burning itself to the ground?"

Hawke stood stiffly - Justice alone might not have noticed, but he was as much healer as he was spirit. Hawke wasn't injured, but he was being slowly worn down. He would not oppose the purpose of another being, though - Hawke was Valor, he was Protection, and he had committed himself to this.

"Let's go," Hawke said.

 

***

 

Aveline was pacing when they arrived, her lips thin and shoulders tense. Hawke caught her eye and saw the flicker of relief. These days it was hard to know where he stood with Aveline – things had gone too far for them to ever really be friends again, but old loyalties bound them, and Hawke couldn’t help hating seeing her like this. She looked out of her depth, eyes darting as the gathered guardsmen muttered amongst themselves.

“Hawke,” she said. “Maker’s breath – your armour. And you’re covered in blood – are you up to this?”

“Most of it isn’t mine.” He grinned, bringing up his carefree mask with practised ease. Isabela was _gone_ , and there’d be time to think about that later. If he stopped to think right now, he’d be no good to anyone. “I’m ready to take on the Arishok.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to _that_.” Aveline cringed. “This is already a mess, and could get worse – is your other – ah – business wrapped up?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” Hawke set his jaw hard, and brushed past Aveline towards the gate of the compound. “Let’s go.”

Anders caught his wrist and Hawke paused, letting Aveline overtake again and only vaguely listening to her arguing with the Qunari guard. There was a brief flash of blue in Anders’ eyes, and he – they – glanced past Hawke through the bars of the gate with a frown.

“This is more than it seems,” Anders said, and Hawke caught the faint rumble of Justice’s voice beneath. “Everyone here reeks of lies.”

“Easy, love.” Hawke cupped his jaw, his fingers framing the faintly glowing outlines of Anders’ veins beneath the skin. “Everyone’s tense, that’s all. No one’s forthcoming when they’re expecting a riot. I think I can trust Aveline.”

“ _Trust?_ ” Hawke glanced over his shoulder at the Qunari guards – Justice was barely hidden beneath Anders’ skin, eyes flickering and lip curling. “She works with Templars, hunts mages…”

“I know.” Hawke pulled him closer, running gauntleted fingers over his cheek. “Love, I _know._ But she’s principled, in her own way. Law above anything else, definitely not my style. But she’s never lied to me, not even about that. Can’t see any reason she’d start now.”

“You cannot trust her, or them.” Justice’s eyes darted to the Qunari gathered at the gates. “Something is _wrong_ here. There is injustice and there is ill intent, mortal deception on every face – do not go into the compound.”

“Hawke…”

Hawke turned at Aveline’s voice, trying to ignore the sick, heavy feeling in his gut. Justice had a habit of being _right_ , but it was too late to back out now. Aveline’s guards were stirring uneasily, and she elbowed her way through the group to Hawke with her face drawn.

“They won’t let us all in,” she said. “I’ve got them to agree to the two of us, and a handful of guardsmen.”

“I’m coming,” Anders said sharply. “Leave the guards if you have to – I’m not letting Hawke out of my sight.”

“Not a chance.” Aveline gestured at the staff on Anders’ back. “They don’t trust magic. The last thing we need to do right now is to provoke them any more than we have to.”

“She’s not wrong.” Hawke pressed a rough, slightly bloodied kiss to Anders’ forehead. “I’ll smooth things over, don’t worry. The Arishok likes me. Thinks I’m charming.”

“Ancestors, we’re fucked.” Varric chuckled and patted Anders on the arm. “Settle down, Trouble. Bad place to start glowing.”

Hawke took Aveline by the elbow and led her quickly ahead of her guards towards the gate of the compound, ignoring the coil of guilt curling in his gut as he fought the urge to look back at Anders. The gates loomed ahead, flanked by stern-faced Qunari – and Maker, there were a lot of them. Hawke swallowed, wondering how long it would be before the Arishok got word of the fight in Lowtown – if he hadn’t heard already.

“What exactly did these fugitives do?” Hawke murmured. “And why run _here_?”

“They killed a guardsman.” Aveline stared fixedly ahead. “As for why here – I assume they think the Qunari are above the law. Hawke, that isn’t a precedent we can let stand. Not under any circumstances, whatever excuses they make. Are you with me on this?”

“I…” He broke off as the gates swung open. “Fuck, Aveline, I don’t know. Are they worth war?”

“The Arishok is a reasonable man. It won’t come to that.”

Hawke studied her face as they paced in between the lines of Qunari. Justice was right, there was no honesty here. Aveline was a poor liar, and her fear was written in every line of her tense expression. Peace with the Qunari was too fragile, especially these days.  This was a mistake. The gate swung shut behind them – too late to back out now.

The Arishok was waiting for them. Pacing, lip curled in a snarl, restless under the darkening sky. He swept his gaze over Hawke as he approached, eyes narrowed and calculating. He had always been an imposing figure, but tonight Hawke could feel the contempt in his stare and the cold fury in his stance. Something had changed between them – something big.

“Shanedan,” he growled.

“Greetings, Arishok.” Aveline’s voice was thin and her eyes wide, but she held her ground, raising her chin as she summoned an air of authority. “We come regarding the elven fugitives that took refuge here.”

“Irrelevant.” The Arishok didn’t even glance her way, his eyes locked on Hawke’s. “I would speak to Hawke about the relic stolen from my grasp.”

Hawke felt his heart stop. He _knew._ It was hard to be sure how much, but it was more than enough to condemn him. The weight of his sword on his back wasn’t comforting enough – how many guardsmen had Aveline brought with them. Three? Four? It wasn’t going to be enough. He didn’t let himself glance over his shoulder to see how far the gate was – any sign of weakness would kill them all. He forced himself to meet the Arishok’s scrutinising stare, and nodded.

“If you give me time, I can get it back for you,” he said.

“It is much too late for that.” The Arishok stalked forward, looking down at Hawke with a withering glare.

“An issue for another time,” Aveline said firmly. “We’re here for the fugitives.”

“The elves are now viddathari. They have chosen to submit to the Qun. They _will_ be protected.” The Arishok granted Aveline the briefest glance, and shook his head with a dismissive growl. “ _This_ is what brings you here, Hawke? Of all the causes in this city, you champion this?”

“I don’t even know what this _is_ ,” he said. “Aveline told me there was trouble, maybe rioting? Maybe no one else knows what’s going on either, except rumour has it you’re hiding criminals, and the usual suspects are using the excuse to whip up hatred.” Hawke sighed. “Talk to me. Let’s work this out. Have the elves even truly converted, or are you just a shield to them?”

“They have chosen,” the Arishok snarled. “And so have I. You have not hidden the abuses of your zealots, or the corruption of this city. Even now, you are forced _again_ to admit to the chaos and injustice of your kind. You will understand why it has come to this. Let us look at your ‘dangerous’ criminals.”

Hawke followed the Arishok’s gesture to watch the two elves weave their way through the crowd. One looked terrified, ears twitching as he kept close to the heavily armed guards, but the other stalked forward, face crumpled with raw disgust as he sighted Aveline. His hands were balled into fists, and there were bloodstains on his clothes, and a swollen, puffy bruise on his cheek.

“Speak, viddathari,” said the Arishok. “Who did you murder, and why?”

“A city guard,” the elf said. He turned his head and spat, nose wrinkled. “He forced himself on our sister. We reported him – or tried to. I should have known it was a waste of time. They did nothing about it, no matter what we said.” He glared at Aveline, and raised his head defiantly. “So my brothers and I paid him a visit.”

Hawke had taken a half step away from Aveline before he knew it, physically recoiling as raw, sickening disgust settled in the pit of his stomach. Every word he’d said about principles sounded awfully hollow here, watching her shrug dismissively and catch his eye as if expecting him to _sympathise._ As if loyalty had no limits.

“That doesn’t excuse murder,” she said. She frowned at Hawke. “It _doesn’t._ ”

“Are these elves telling the truth?” He asked. He couldn’t hide the dull fury in his voice – not now, not after three years of worrying so much he thought he might choke on it. Not after the first night Bethany spent in the Gallows, fumbling his way down to Anders’ clinic in the dark stinking of wine and sobbing against the mage’s feathered shoulder that he was terrified, and he was helpless, begging for reassurance that she’d be safe. Not after the grim satisfaction of watching Alrik die, and the empty horror that night of lying awake and knowing that it wasn’t _enough_.

“Hawke…”

“Answer me,” he ground out. “Is this true?”

“There have been rumours.” Aveline grimaced. “I will investigate. Hawke, they still took the law into their own hands.”

“Good,” he said. “I would have done the same thing. I wouldn’t have hesitated. I doubt I’d have even tried to report it first.”

“That’s not helping.”

“Their actions are mere symptoms.” The Arishok’s voice was heavy with determination, cutting through Hawke’s anger. “Your society is the disease. They have chosen. The viddathari will submit to the Qun and find a path your way has denied them.”

“You don’t just get to decide that,” Aveline said. “You must hand them over.”

“You can’t be serious.” Hawke grabbed Aveline’s arm. “This _can’t_ be where you draw the line. You have to let this go.”

“Do you have _any_ idea what’ll happen tonight if I don’t make an arrest?” she hissed. “To the Qunari? To the Alienage? I’m taking them in, and I’m going to pray that it’s enough to stop the city tearing itself apart.”

“They deserve better.”

“Exactly so,” the Arishok said. “I cannot leave without the relic – yet I cannot stay, remaining blind to this dysfunction. There is only one solution.”

“Talk to us,” Aveline said. “Arishok, there is no need for –“

“I think it’s gone beyond that,” Hawke said, taking a cautious step backwards. He saw the elves vanish back behind the Qunari guards, and the Arishok’s dismissive gesture as he turned away. There was no peaceful solution here – and they were outnumbered and surrounded. Hawke’s heart was pounding, blood hot and thundering in his ears as he curled his hand around the hilt of his sword, glancing quickly side to side at the ranks of Qunari. They couldn’t win this. Raw panic gripped him as he heard a distant, wavering scream – this had been out of their hands from long before they set foot in the compound. This was _planned_ , and it was everywhere.

Hawke didn’t even see where the first spear came from. It took one of the guardsmen in the throat, and he crashed to the ground choking thickly on a spray of blood. Hawke ducked – blind instinct taking over as he drew his sword and a second spear whistled overhead, close enough he felt it brush his hair before it clattered harmlessly to the ground. Aveline shattered a third with her sword as the Qunari closed in, and two more spears hissed through the air, felling another guardsman.

“We need to fall back,” Aveline shouted. Her face was sprayed in blood, hair sticky with it and clinging to her cheeks as she glanced around wildly.

“You started this,” Hawke bellowed back. A Qunari charged him and he wheeled on him with a furious roar, his sword swinging smoothly into his belly with a sickening wet thud. “They’ll take the city – they’ll take the bloody Gallows…” two more attacked and he threw himself into action, sword wheeling in an arc of blood as he stumbled back. He barely held them off, knees buckling as an axe glanced off his side, leaving another dent in his ruined armour. They couldn’t win this. Another step back, another wild slash that left a dying Qunari at his feet. It wasn’t enough.

“Fall back.” Aveline’s voice cracked.

“We _can’t_.” Hawke thought of Ketojan, lips scarred and twisted by the crooked stitches, collared and helpless. “We can’t let them…”

“ _Hawke.”_ He turned, breathing raggedly. Aveline and the one remaining guardsman were backing towards the gate, drenched in blood and faces pale. Aveline was limping, and the guardsman’s face was slashed deep and ragged across his jaw, exposing a pale sliver of bone.

“Not here,” she gasped. “Too open. Go, go…”

Hawke took one final look at the Arishok’s back, at the advancing Qunari, at the unwinnable fight – and ran.

 

***

The Qunari drew their blades, and Anders let the word turn blue. Varric’s shocked cry sounded miles away as he stumbled back, his grip falling from Anders’ – Justice’s – arm. There was no reason for secrecy – not here, not any more. Lightning burst from Anders’ fingertips, coiling around his staff as the electrical storm danced into life in the air around him – around _them._ He was present, but only just – a shadow beneath his own skin as Justice roared and twisted in shared flesh, breathing pure, unshackled magic as he dug his claws into the fabric of the Fade and hauled it, scalding and howling, into the world. Warriors fell, flesh seared and charred, and Anders let himself fall into the whirlwind that was Justice as blood drenched their glowing skin.

The gate burst open and Hawke stumbled through it, one arm locked around a guardsman’s waist. He caught Anders’ eye through the haze of blue spirit fire, panting raggedly as he raced forward. Aveline was close behind, sword levelled at the Qunari chasing them down. Justice sprung forward, coiled energy overcoming mortal flesh to move Anders faster than he could have imagined, throwing himself between Hawke and the advancing Qunari.

“These mortals are _mine,_ ” Justice snarled. He caught Aveline’s arm and threw her back, narrowly saving her from a thrown spear. She crashed to the ground with a cry, and Justice let electricity gather between his splayed fingers, lip curled as the Qunari faltered and slowed. “You will not have them. You will not have this city.”

“Run,” Hawke panted. He gripped Anders’ arm, his grip bruising and his breath coming in shallow rasps. “We can’t win here. We need to move.”

“They betrayed us. They betrayed _you_.” Anders didn’t know if the words were his or Justice’s, or born of the fury whipped up in the space between.

“Justice, _please._ ” Hawke shook his arm. “We need you with us.”

Justice turned – or Anders did – one pulling the other as they twisted to see Varric helping Aveline to her feet and the guardsmen fleeing into the alleys below. There was a fire burning in the distance, and the sounds of screams and metal against flesh howling in the dark. This wasn’t an attack on Hawke – this wasn’t just an attack at all. It was war.

The Qunari charged, and Justice turned on them with a rumbling snarl. He loosed the lightning in his fists – not into the Qunari, but into the sandstone arch above them. The stone cracked, dust billowing in the air, and Anders let Hawke haul him back as cracks splintered along the walls and the first heavy block crashed to the ground. Another burst of lightning and the ground shook, walls rippling like water from the impact, and the Qunari bellowed as the compound wall fractured and caved in.

“That’ll slow them,” Hawke said. He dropped his grip to Anders’ hand, catching his fingers before he could draw power from the Fade to cast again. “Come on – _now._ ”

They ran. Justice slipped within Anders’ skin, inhuman strength still snapping and humming in his veins as his feet pounded the ground and he followed Hawke into a narrow alley after Varric’s retreating back. His breath burned his lungs and he ached from head to toe, his mana drained and body bruised from Justice’s attack. Hawke was silent beside him, the only sound the rough hiss of his breath and the clatter of his armour as they let the winding streets swallow them.

“Stop,” Hawke panted finally. He slowed and halted, leaning back against the wall with a sight. “We’ve lost them.”

“For now.” Aveline slumped down onto a crate, twisting to inspect her left leg with a groan. The armour looked battered, and by the way she moved, Anders guessed she’d taken a heavy blow. “Can you hear it? They’re spreading out – attacking the city.”

“Are you surprised?” Anders flinched at the raw anger in Hawke’s voice. Hawke stalked forward, brushing Varric aside to seize Aveline’s arm and haul her to her feet. “Explain yourself. _Now._ ”

“You _can’t_ think this is my fault.” She shook him off with a glare. “I don’t know what they hope to accomplish, but if you think this is about defending two elves you’re more naïve than I thought.”

“Hawke, what are you _doing?_ ” Varric helped Aveline back to her crate, frowning at Hawke as she sat down with a hiss. “Last shit we need is to start killing each other. At this point I’m pretty sure that’s just doing the Qunari favours.”

“Tell them,” Hawke spat. “Tell Anders – after he and Justice just saved your life. Tell Varric, after he just half bloody _carried_ you here. Tell them what you did.”

“My job.” She leaned back against the wall with a groan. “I tried to arrest two _criminals._ However much you respect their motives, Hawke, they committed murder. No arrest, no investigation, no trial. They had no right. You can’t expect me to allow civilians to execute each other based on mere accusations – even of such a terrible crime.” She tugged off her gauntlets, letting the bloodied metal crash to the ground.

“I’d almost agree with you, if you’d actually tried to help them. But – if this is about the _law,_ then arrest me.” Hawke’s voice was tight with barely held-back fury, hands curled into fists. “Your _friends_ in the Templars might have mentioned a murder?”

“Hawke, don’t,” she said.

“Otto Alrik,” he said. “Found dead in the tunnels under the Gallows.”

“ _Garrett,”_ Anders hissed. Justice was boiling just below the surface at the mention of Alrik’s name, and although Anders wasn’t sure he fully understood what had gone on between Hawke and Aveline in the Qunari compound, the pieces were beginning to fit together. The picture that was emerging made Justice snarl and scrabble at the confines of mortal flesh, aching to be loose, to demand an explanation, to demand _justice._

“I can show you the exact spot,” Hawke said. “I’ll take the blame – fuck, the _credit._ You want a signed confession? See, I’m not one of your fucking guardsmen, as I might have mentioned a few times. I don’t cover for rapists – I kill them. If that’s a problem for you…”

“I knew you were involved,” Aveline said. She coiled her blood-soaked hair behind her head, and wiped her face with the back of her hand. She stared up at Hawke, face drawn. “I’m not going to arrest you, Hawke. And I’m not going to apologise for how I do my job.”

“Good.” Hawke backed away from her with a grimace. “We’re through. Rally what’s left of your guardsmen, if you want to help Kirkwall. If you care about anything at all. But you’re not coming with me. I don’t need you.”

“You don’t _need_ me?” Aveline snorted and shook her head. “You’ve _always_ needed me, you bloody hypocrite. You live in Hightown with a wanted apostate, you pick fights with Templars and nobles and anyone else you damn well please, and have you ever so much as been questioned? Who do you _think_ protects you?” She struggled to her feet, brushing Varric away. “I protect my own. You seemed happy enough with that when it was only _your_ crimes I made go away. No matter how many times the Knight Commander comes breathing down my neck about the Mage Underground or the clinic in the sewers or murdered Templars. You need me.”

“I don’t want your protection,” Hawke snarled.

“I’ll go.” She shook her head. “Let you get this out of your system. Let you remember who’s been nothing but loyal to you from the day we met. I wouldn’t want you to say anything you’d regret.”

“Alrik’s not the first,” Hawke said. He was icily calm, cold disgust radiating from him as he took a step towards Aveline. “I killed my first Templar when I was fourteen years old. We ran when we could, but any Templar that set eyes on Bethany – it wasn’t worth the risk. Once a Templar knew my sister was a mage, I knew – and my father knew, and even – Maker, even Carver knew. We couldn’t let them walk away.” He took another step forward, and Anders saw Aveline’s face fall.

“Me and Carver talked on the road,” Hawke said. “We agreed on how we’d do it – how we’d stay awake when it was Wesley’s turn to take watch, how we’d lure him out of camp, how to make it look like a Darkspawn attack so we wouldn’t have to kill you too.”

“Hawke, that’s enough,” Varric said as Aveline recoiled. “Come on – don’t…”

“Turned out the Darkspawn got him after all.” Hawke laughed bitterly. “But after the way he looked at Bethany, the way he looked _down_ at her as if she was a rabid dog. I didn’t kill him out of _mercy_ , Aveline. I slid my dagger into his heart so I could watch the life drain out of him and know that there was one less Templar drawing breath.”

“Bloody fuck, Hawke, _enough,_ ” Varric said.

Aveline’s hand was on her sword, face twisted as Hawke stared her down. Anders could feel Justice rippling beneath his skin, overcoming Anders’ brief flash of pity for Aveline with a wave of satisfaction tinged with the taste of blood and the remembered sound of tearing, burning flesh. It might not be quite _just_ to take pleasure in the deaths of mortals, but Justice had grown in the dark spaces of Anders’ mind, in memories of chains and threats and the tight, close walls of a cell. _Ours,_ Anders felt, coiling through shared thought. _He is Protection, and Justice, and he is ours._

“Come on, walk away,” Varric said quietly. He caught Aveline’s arm as she drew her sword, edging between her and Hawke. “We’ve all got bigger problems.”

“We have.” She sheathed her sword slowly, not breaking Hawke’s gaze for a moment. “For now.”

She turned and disappeared into the dark, the heavy sound of her footsteps fading into the night. Varric groaned and turned away to pace, running his fingers through his hair as Hawke sank down slowly onto the crate and rested his head in his hands. The distant sounds of battle echoed through the streets, and a dull orange glow lit Hawke’s exhausted, lined features in deep gold as the fires spread. The city was falling, and they were running out of time. Hawke leaned back against the wall, and let his hands fall into his lap as he looked up at Anders.

“I was right,” he said. “It’s going to be a long night.” He chuckled weakly, bitter and humourless as he shook his head. “I’m down two friends, and the city’s under attack. All we need now is a nice exalted march. Or maybe a Blight.”

“We need help,” Anders said. “We should head back to Hightown – find Fenris.”

“Things must be dire if you’re suggesting that,” Hawke said with a brief grin.

“He understands the Qunari – he can predict their next move. And without Aveline, we could use another sword.” Anders let Justice come forward, faint blue light flickering in his veins as he reached out to run his fingers over Hawke’s cheek. He could feel the hum in his skin that came from Justice, reaching out through Anders to lend Hawke his strength.

“We can still fight,” Anders said, and Justice’s rumble curled around his words and burned like lyrium on his tongue. “And we can _win_.”


End file.
